Ghost
by TitaniumA
Summary: The Ghost, an assassin and master thief, approaches SHIELD with the intention of joining. She offers information and her abilities but due to her record, Nick Fury wants someone to keep an eye on her. The job falls to Clint Barton who is - to put it lightly - less than happy about it. Ghost could be a huge asset to SHIELD or their downfall.
1. Chapter 1

Agent Clint Barton of S.H.I.E.L.D was curious. Which, needless to say, usually wasn't good. That, coupled with the slight excitement that coursed through his veins, was usually very bad – well, for a few people. Usually, those few people ended up dead.

But, this wasn't the usual way he got his missions. Most of the time, Clint received a dossier in his assigned bunk on the Helicarrier, followed up by a briefing with Coulson.

Today though, he was going to be briefed by Nick Fury which meant this was an important, and more than likely highly dangerous mission, which was bound to be fun and a break from the dreary life in this particular S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Hence the curiosity.

"Agent Barton. You took your time," Director Fury said, a calm expression on his face as Clint entered a large room. The room was mostly bare, with only a glass table with a couple of chairs between them.

Clint surveyed the area quickly. A window looked out to the main control station of the Helicarrier. Clint stood in front of the only door. He couldn't help it. Looking out for himself first and foremost was a reflex. He sat down.

Clint played along, just wanting to find out what was in store for him. "My apologises sir. I'm not used to being briefed for missions like this."

"This is no ordinary mission agent. You're getting this mission because I have a hunch. Thing is, I also have a hunch that you won't be impressed," Fury continued.

Clint figured that translated to, _Cut the crap. You're not going to like this mission but tough shit, you have to do it._

He became apprehensive.

Fury slid a file across the table. Clint raised an eyebrow, but pulled it towards him and flicked it open. It contained information on a woman who, judging from the picture was at least Natasha's age. She looked slightly familiar. He looked up at Fury.

"You want me to kill her?"

"Not exactly. That, Agent Barton, is Sarah Smith, also known as Leah Wayne, Amelia Smith and Sarah Walker. Or Ghost, the best thief in the world. And she wants to sign up to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Clint knew why she looked familiar now. He'd heard about her. If he was correct, which he usually was, Natasha had run into her before.

"What's she got to do with me?"

"We want you to train her -"

Clint became alarmed. Fury couldn't be serious, could he? He was an assassin, a spy, not a damn daycare. He was not going to look after some new agent. He had better things to do with his time.

"With all due respect sir, I'm a fighter, not a babysitter."

"See, the way you're acting now doesn't show too much respect. Let me finish," Fury said sternly. Clint reluctantly held his tongue.

"You've read the file on the island William Stryker ran, the one where he experimented on mutants. Hell, since Captain America, people haven't stopped experimenting on each other. You remember the explosion of Joseph Cane's facility in Canada," Fury stated, clearly building up to something.

"And?" Clint knew he should probably shut his trap, but right now, manners weren't top of his list. Not the best idea when dealing with Fury.

Fury let it pass however. "She was in that facility. If she's to be believed, she caused the explosion. Her story is that they experimented on her since she was born. She may also be a natural mutant."

Clint groaned. He now remembered what Natasha had told him about this woman specifically. "I know what she can do. So you want me to look after some moron scientist's mess?"

"Yes," Fury said straight out. "Apparently, she's not even completely sure of what happened, but you know how it goes. The experimentation left some side effects.."

"And if I recall correctly, she became an assassin and master thief for hire. A good one too if what Agent Romanoff said was accurate, and I've never known her to be anything but. So why does she need training?" Clint asked mockingly, his anger simmering.

"I believe she can be trusted, but the Council want verification. I've heard she finds taking orders difficult. Reminds me of you so, in theory, you should be able to sort her out. And we want to keep her contained, just in case, so that's why you're going to be the only agent training her," Fury surmised.

Clint figured this meant he was going to be grounded for a long while. Stuck on a base with no missions. "You know I see better from a distance. Why do we need her?"

"You said it yourself. You know what she does. She could be a huge asset to this organisation and she's volunteering," Fury continued. Clint found it hard to argue, because it was true. He probably would've supported the idea if he didn't have to be the one to babysit the newbie.

Clint realised he had no choice and his hands were tied. Fury had made his decision before Clint even walked into the room.

He was going to have to do it, but he was determined to make sure damn well everybody knew he wasn't happy as he leaned back in his chair.

"So you're planning on eventually replacing us with shinier, super-human models?" Fury rolled his eyes at Clint's snide remark.

"No. But she could be the first to help us officially."

Clint avoided Fury's gaze, still angry even though he knew he had no right to be. He should be emotionless. He quickly calmed himself.

"You have been given a mission agent. You will follow it through."

"… Yes sir," Clint gave in aloud, but a plan formed in his head. Fury's stern look evaporated as he smirked.

"And don't even think about saying she doesn't need training. You're to complete three missions with her before you say she's satisfactory."

Damn. Fury had read his mind. And had the gumption to look amused about it.

"I've known you long enough to work that one out Barton. This goes well and I have another mission lined up and ready," that's all Fury would say to him. It seemed his rudeness had been forgiven though.

Clint walked briskly out of the room, file in hand. He would accept the mission, though he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Well, he knew he felt slightly incredulous, sceptical, disbelieving. Mostly because they avoided the big ass elephant that had been in the room.

That was Clint had no idea how he was supposed to control her. She could turn invisible. If that couldn't be considered an asset, he didn't know what could.

_**I don't own any characters or settings you recognise.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Clint watched, his eyes calculating. Ghost – he called her Ghost because even S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't know her real name, just her aliases – had been in the interrogation room for seven hours. Some might think that was a little overboard - just a tad - but Clint knew differently.

He of all people knew that the best way to get to know someone was by careful observation. He wanted to see if she had a short fuse. The answer to that was yes.

Within a half an hour she became irritated, but she didn't let it show too much.

The only reason he could detect her emotion was because of the slight tightening of her jaw, but she didn't demonstrate any of the classic symptoms – she didn't wring her hands, shift in her seat or do anything to preoccupy herself.

He was almost disappointed. He would've taken pleasure in her being uncomfortable, as sadistic as that sounded. He'd stayed up too damn late last night reading her file and about her heists and exploits. Clint wished she hadn't been so criminally inclined.

To the anyone less skilled than Hawkeye – that would be the majority of people - it would seem Ghost was displaying no emotion as she sat as still as a statue, staring at the wall in front of her.

Clint himself had wiped away most of his resentment. That's what he was trained to do – feel no emotion. He had a gut feeling though that Natasha wouldn't let him live down being a babysitter. Sure, at first she'd act all mature, but he was damn sure she'd be laughing on the inside.

He decided to finally make an appearance and he braced himself, suspecting Ghost's reaction to being kept waiting would not be fun. Though, if she slipped up, he could easily take her down and move on to his next mission. Even as he thought of it, he banished the sweet dream from his mind. A guy could hope, right?

He strode confidently into the room.

"Agent Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye. What should I call you?"

She moved for what seemed like the first time in hours. "A pain in your ass."

That didn't faze Clint. He continued with the interrogati – ahem, job interview. "See, the funny thing is, I was already calling you that in my head." They had a staring competition for a moment, her eyes ice cold and challenging while his looked threatening.

"Leah Smith," she said finally. Leah knew she had to pretend to respect these a-holes to get the job. That was her version of respect.

"So, Smith," Clint began. "We'll start with the toughest first if you don't mind."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Leah answered calmly, but her body was tense. She was telling him, _Bring it on_. Clint had never believed in the saying 'Be careful what you wish for' but he hoped Ghost/Leah did.

"So you're hard core, right? Least that's what I've heard," Clint was prepared for the response he knew he was going to receive. She was predictable.

"Well, I hate to brag but…" She quickly brought up her leg so that it was on her chair, her arm resting on her knee. It happened in a half of a second, so fast that anyone with slower reflexes than Clint would've jumped.

He had a feeling that despite her attitude, she wanted this job. Why else would she be here? He could see her swallowing her annoyance.

It was strange. She was trying to put him on edge and he was doing the same, but he felt she was prepared to be honest, even if she didn't want to show it.

And if there was one thing Clint or Hawkeye was famous for, it was trusting his gut feeling. So he rolled on the pressure.

"Is that why you don't stay invisible when you fight?" The answer to that question was important if he was to train her, but if there was one thing he learned it was that assassins took great pride in their fighting skills.

Leah rolled her eyes. "It's not like flicking a light switch. Do you have any idea how hard it is to change?" Clint saw a way in. She just revealed a weakness, and he doubted it was unintentional.

This strengthened his feeling that Leah was trying to show she was trustworthy but not a pushover who would spill her guts in a second. She looked him in the eye, wanting this message to get across, but remain unspoken.

"No," he answered bluntly albeit truthfully, trying to get her to reveal more.

"As much as I take pride in my skills, I'm not that good. It takes extreme concentration to change and trying to fight at the same time is near impossible. I wouldn't ever try it in a real fight, not unless I had some sort of death wish," Leah said sternly, though now he was certain she was toying with his moron agent guise.

Leah wasn't planning on telling them the full extent of her power. She needed to keep some things to herself. She still didn't know if they were going to kill her after she told them some things that were going down in the criminal world. But she had planned for that possibility.

"Calm down, I get it. Is that your real name then, Leah?"

She lowered her eyes and looked slightly uncomfortable for the first time. It was only for half a second, but it was good. If he was going to work with her, he needed to know how to push her buttons. He found that pissing people off made them work harder, just to prove him wrong.

"It's the name I took," Leah said with a sense of finality to her tone. That only pushed Clint further.

"There's no need to be mysterious. I'll find out. I'm the one that's training you."

Leah gave him the evil eye and suddenly sat up straighter. He knew the game she was playing, trying to intimidate him. "I take it you remember the explosion of a gas line north-east of Yellowknife, Canada. There was loads of fuss kicked up about pollution. "

He considered playing along, but then decided that he'd been doing too much of that lately. "I remember hearing about that. Thing is, way I heard it, it was an experimentation facility run by Joseph Cane."

Leah smiled, but it wasn't in amusement. There was something dark to her grin as her lips twisted up on one side. It would be disturbing if Hawkeye hadn't seen some of the things he'd seen.

Her skin was as white as chalk and her eyes a paler blue than any he had ever seen. Her dark, heavy hair framed her face, adding a sinister air. He supposed her features came with not ever seeing the sun for the first two decades or so of her life.

But Clint's face remained a mask and Leah remained oblivious to his musings as she continued, "So you're not just a lackey then, huh?"

"Nope."

"Good. I was getting tired of dealing with idiots," she paused for a moment, almost trying to judge whether he could handle what she was about to say. Clint didn't take that lightly. His eyes dared her.

"I was there for as long as I can remember, and I didn't have a name. I was Test Subject IV. So I took a name," she answered, looking like the words she said meant nothing, but Clint could tell they were weighing on her.

That brought him to his final and most difficult question.

If she answered this one wrong, he might as well just throw her file in the bin. Either she walked out of this as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or she was killed. There was no way S.H.I.E.L.D. would let her leave alive after seeing their highest security base and its inner workings.

"Well now that we've got that cleared up, I need to tell you something. I lied. I left the hardest question 'til last," Clint stated. "Why do you want to work for an organisation that knew what was happening in that facility, but chose not to interfere?"

He didn't know if this was new information to her. It didn't seem like it though. This was a woman who overheard everything and dealed in secrets. From now on, he had to assume she knew.

Her ice blue eyes looked at him critically. She considered her answer before she spoke, "I like my job, Agent Barton, and I'm very good at what I do. This way, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't on my back and a few other interested parties are scared off, but I can still continue with what I'm best at."

Clint knew that wasn't the whole story. People didn't just decide to work for government agencies. He would look into that, but otherwise she seemed clean. There was a moment of silence.

"So do I have the job?"

"You don't have a job yet. I gotta teach you," Clint said. He was tempted to let bitterness seep into his voice, but he didn't have enough emotion for that. From this point on, he was going to train her and therefore had to be impartial.

He walked out of the interrogation room and left the door open, showing her she was allowed to leave.

She followed him cautiously with an emotionless face and tense shoulders. "I have a feeling the only thing I'll learn off you is a bad attitude."

"You seem to already have that one covered," he answered nonchalantly. He was surprised at her sarcasm after the display inside the interrogation room. Clint kept his eye on her to gauge her reaction.

"I call it sass," she replied easily, but he could see the tension in the way she held herself. She was still cautious. "And I'm just glad to be able to get off my ass for the first time in seven hours."

She was still on her guard, as any sane assassin would be – though, Clint was certain, no assassins were completely sane, even government ones. Clint was slightly relieved though. She didn't seem like she would be too much trouble.

"That was a job interview. You could've left anytime you liked," Clint lied through his teeth.

Lee looked at him sceptically. "Then why do I have the feeling if I tried to stroll around this base, I would've been gunned down?"

"Because you probably would be," Clint answered nonchalantly.

Leah's face was unsurprised. Her eyes darted around, looking for any sign she was in danger.

Leah knew she had to do this. She had to be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. for everything to work out. It was the only way.

"Agent Rimes," Clint called to a female agent with iron grey hair. The woman approached them.

"Sir," Rimes saluted.

"Please show Smith to her assigned bunk. Make sure she knows where everything is," Clint said briskly. Rimes saluted again.

Smith looked at her cautiously, but followed her. The last thing she heard from Barton was,

"Six am sharp tomorrow. Have an ice bath ready for when the training is done."

.../...

Block. Sidestep. Duck.

Leah grabbed the agent's leg as he tried to kick her. She contemplated flipping him but just pushed him away and continued toying with him.

She batted away his punch. It glanced off her forearm but was unlikely to leave a mark. Leah stepped around the next swing of his fist. He brought his guard down and tried to wrap his heavy arms around her in an effort to keep her still long enough so he could land a solid hit.

It was a pity. She had been having fun. Leah slipped down and through his legs, turned and jumped agilely, locking her own legs around his waist. She wouldn't have done so if the man was shorter, but even though she considered herself tall, this agent was a giant in comparison.

She wrapped her arm around his neck and cupped her hand around his head, in a perfect position to break his neck. The agent froze.

Agent Barton wanted to see what she could do after all. You know what they say, be careful what you wish for. He watched her, his face emotionless.

She dismounted the agent who stomped off quickly, eager to do some weights or something that would prove he wasn't a pushover. The man was young, probably only a year or two into it. She wondered why he would choose of his own free will to join S.H.I.E.L.D.

"That one was good," Leah said. It sounded genuine, but Clint didn't doubt otherwise. He didn't take anything she said to heart, but she had mostly kept quiet today, gauging the attitudes of those around her.

Leah stretched her stiff muscles from sitting around for seven hours yesterday long gone. "So, what's next?"

She had done everything you could call 'basic assessment'. Well, that's what Barton called it. After the first hour of running she had questioned him.

"I thought you said I would need an ice bath? I haven't broken a sweat."

"Fury told me I wasn't allowed to put you in the Judge on your first day," Barton said gruffly.

"Oooh, the Judge? Now I'm scared."

Hours later she wondered if he was just messing with her. This was some world class bullshit. Did he think she could really make it in her line of work if she couldn't handle a few big guys?

But Clint had decided that basic assessment was the best way to start. He needed to see what level she was at.

He took all of Smith's behaviour into consideration.

Despite her few smart ass comments yesterday, she kept her mouth shut today. She knew she was in foreign territory, so she was careful. Clint noticed she never turned her back on him.

He had watched Smith take down a couple of good agents. She kicked more than she punched and relied on her speed more than he did. However, Clint noticed she wasn't afraid of contact, having seen her tackle and flip those she sparred with.

She was light on her feet too. If Clint wasn't as good as he was, she might be able to sneak up on him. Her cautiousness, agility, silence and her … ability, would make for a great spy and assassin. He could see what a great thief she must've been.

But Smith knew she was good. The main thing to her was to get the job done. She was reluctant to take orders, almost as reluctant as he was to admit Fury had been right.

Smith was a lot like him.

"So, how about the Judge on my second day?"

Clint glanced at Ghost's face. She stood on the mat, her arms folded across her chest. It had been difficult for him at the start. He wasn't the type of guy to watch someone else spar.

He was there to assess, to stand on the sidelines.

"I decide when you're ready for that," Clint answered.

A muscle jumped in Smith's jaw. Assassins hated when their skills were doubted. Again she kept her mouth shut, which intrigued Clint. This woman stole secrets for a living, so he knew he would need to get her trust to learn anything of value.

The Judge. A reality stimulator where the person inside would be attacked by assailants non-stop. There was no food or water to be found and the only supplies you got were the ones you had on you. It was a test to see how long the trainee could last if they were surrounded. It was usually the last test an agent would undergo before they were cleared to do field work.

Clint had fought for twenty hours straight, a record at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Smith considered him, her face stoic but slight changes in her posture showed how pissed off she was. "You know, I've heard you're the best marksman in the world, that you never miss. But could you hit something if there is nothing to aim at?" She turned invisible.

Clint couldn't stop his muscles from tensing.

So she was smarter than Clint gave her credit for and good at controlling that temper of her's. He questioned her skills so she questioned his. Most would just get angry and attack blindly, doomed to lose. But she used her intelligence and stealth.

Smith reappeared right in front of him, the corner of her mouth turned upwards.

"Tomorrow, we're gonna look at that power of yours." In a show of trust (even though he didn't trust her one bit), he turned his back and left the training room.

Clint wasn't tired, so he didn't sleep.

There wasn't much to do in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, unless you enjoyed shooting rubber bands at your co-workers heads or making fine cuisine (Coulson sweared he didn't do either, but Clint knew better).

While Clint was mildly entertained by shooting rubber bands at people (after all, he never missed), it was late and for everyone with level 5 security clearance and under it was lights out. There weren't enough people around to hit.

He had level 7, but it wasn't like someone was going to stop the Hawk and ask if he had clearance.

So he headed to his favourite place.

In the firing range they had a special place set up for Clint to practice archery. He started with targets that were 100 metres away.

He preferred to practice at night. There wasn't a sinner in sight, and that meant the place was completely empty. Every agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. had sinned.

But Clint wasn't particularly religious and already knew that if there was a hell, that's where he would probably end up. He didn't dwell on those things though. He did his job.

He fired arrow after arrow, each hitting the centre of the target despite the distance.

The soft twang of his bowstring was comforting, even though he enjoyed the dead silence. There was a quiet echo as his arrows hit the target.

Clint drew another arrow and notched it, but he quickly turned to face his left. He could've sworn he heard something. He paused.

"You are as good as they say," a voice said. "And good job on hearing me. Most people wouldn't have a clue."

Suddenly, Smith appeared. She had been there, invisible and watching him.

"You should be in your bunk," Clint said, not lowering his bow. He should've known her little 'completely obedient' act would break soon. He'd seen how she could act emotionless, but her true nature was bubbling just under the surface. He was determined to make her show it.

"Don't worry, I'm not looking at top secret files or anything."

"I should kill you right now. You were briefed on protocol," Clint replied. He was bluffing. He wouldn't kill her, Fury would have his head. Fury preferred quieter dismissals, and ones that didn't take place at his firing range. Someone would have to clean up after all.

"I couldn't resist. You still haven't answered my question from earlier. Could you hit someone if there was nothing to aim at?"

He kept his bow trained on her. "Do you believe in radical teaching methods?"

The Ghost raised an eyebrow. "You're asking someone who was tortured and experimented on in a secret facility and was trained to be a killer because it was that or be killed if she believes in radical teaching methods?"

She spoke of her imprisonment and torture lightly, but Clint filed that away for later and remained indifferent. "Is that a yes?"

Her pale blue eyes were curious. "Yes."

"Do you trust me?" Clint almost laughed at himself as the words came out.

"Not one bit."

"Follow me," Clint answered. He walked with purpose into the training room and Smith followed him cautiously.

He grabbed her arm. She reflexively tried to twist out of his grip but he told her to stop.

"This is a trust exercise," he told her. Smith stared at him for a long moment.

Clint was certain he would have to dodge a punch any second now, but surprisingly, the fight went right out of her. She pulled her wrist from his grip and held her head up high.

He beckoned for her to follow him to the far wall. There were straps, handcuffs and shackles there. They were there so agents could practice getting out, but Clint had something else in mind.

He strapped Smith's arm to the wall. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and her fight the instinct to pull away. Her hand kept twitching, making a fist and then relaxing.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Trust is meant to work both ways you know."

He ignored her. "Don't struggle."

He paced backwards and then raised his bow, aiming at her hand.

"Do plan on getting married one day?" he asked calmly, just waiting.

"What? No! Stop!" Smith finally panicked. That made Clint feel a bit better. She had been too calm.

"In between your middle and ring finger it is then." He took aim and loosed the arrow. Smith cringed as it approached.

With a twang it hit the wall in between her middle and ring finger. Clint strode towards her, unstrapped her arm and pulled his arrow out of the wall.

"I was almost worried for a second there," Leah breathed. She now knew she made the right call by showing some fear. The last thing she needed was Barton's suspicion. Her heartbeat started to slow down again.

"Don't sneak up on me."

Leah knew after seeing that display she would have to disobey him on that one. She was curious and that was never a good thing. Barton slung his bow over his back.

"That should answer your question."

Leah rubbed her wrist. "Is that a yes?" she quoted him as he walked briskly out of the training room.

_**I don't own. Thanks for reading.**_


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm glad you've got good aim Barton, 'cause I've got feeling I'm going to need this finger a lot around you," Leah held up her middle one to emphasise her point as she walked into the training room.

Some less intelligent people might think the training room was like a gym. Leah was certain that if a gym looked like this, you should probably be concerned about who you were working out with.

It was huge. The majority of the area had mats designated for sparring. There was an area for those who specialised in blades like herself and Leah knew from her little excursion last night they had set up a special archery range beside the firing range for Agent Barton.

Chains and ropes were in the corner of the room. She learned well enough what they were for last night. Special weaponry was in the opposite corner.

Barton rolled his eyes at her earlier comment.

"I knew I should've shot it while I had the chance," he replied.

And as the day passed, Clint was very impressed, even if he would never admit it. He was still annoyed she managed to sneak up on him the previous night, but her power was something a spy or assassin would die for.

It was no wonder she was the best thief in the world, but she did have extra help. He was slightly envious of her power.

But then again she told him she never bothered to learn archery, which definitely lessened her good impression. He'd still rather his bow.

He began to doubt what Smith had told him about her powers. She could hold it for much longer than she let on. But he wasn't surprised she kept the extent of her abilities to herself.

"We're not going to be training together very long, are we?" Smith appeared to his right. He doubted he would ever get used to someone being invisible. Frankly, it just plain unfair.

"Why do you say that?" Clint answered her question with a question. They were both still incredibly cautious around one another.

"Well, the only reason you're here babysitting me is because 'the man' wants to make sure I'm not a double agent. I'm not. So why don't you tell this higher power and redeem yourself among your peers?" Smith said smoothly.

"Because honestly," she disappeared again, "That agent with who has blond hair, a scar on his chin and about three of his own teeth left doesn't think too highly of you. I'm sure he's not the only one."

"Nice try," was all he said, though had to fight to stop himself rising to the bait. She was talking about Jonathon Grimshaw, and for the first time Clint didn't doubt Smith was telling the truth.

He kept his eyes peeled, trying to find some weakness, a chink in the armour, so that he would know when she was around. He was usually the one who sneaked up on people.

Truthfully, the idea that he wouldn't be able to hear or see her frightened the shit out of him. But there was only one person alive that he was really, honestly truthful with and that was himself.

"I could help. I have a feeling 'the man' has a fondness for long black coats and eye patches." Her voice gave away her position and Clint stalked towards it while trying to look like he had no idea where she was.

"It's not Fury. And I never settle for just 'among my peers'. I'm _above_ most of them. And above you. I say when I stop training you."

He heard the slightest rustle of fabric. She must've doubled around him while he spoke. People always told him he would do better if he shut his trap. Coulson and Natasha knew that to be impossible.

He spun, dropped to the ground and swept her feet out from under her.

Smith hit the floor with a thud and let out a torrent of quiet curses. Only half of them were in English. It was strange scenario. He could hear her but not see her.

She reappeared on the mat, clutching the back of her head and glaring at him. Even so, the first words Smith uttered that were fit to say in polite company were, "It was my clothes, wasn't it?"

She was wearing a black t-shirt, black cargo pants and boots, all S.H.I.E.L.D. issued and the exact same as him. All agents had these outfits in the measly chest of drawers in their personal quarters.

The rooms were small rectangles with only the most necessary of furniture inside, i.e. a bed and some storage space. Clint had a sneaking suspicion that Fury had a grand room, complete with a hot tub and mini bar. Or maybe not.

Clint just nodded.

"That wouldn't have happened if I had my suit on," she spat at the floor.

This attracted Clint's attention. Smith had never mentioned anything about a suit before. "Why wouldn't it have?" he asked blandly, concealing his interest.

He didn't bother offering his hand to help her up. He knew she wouldn't take it.

Smith got up, graceful nonetheless.

"It's tighter, meaning there is less material to jostle around and make noise. And it's designed to protect me more in knife fights," she dusted herself off, never looking embarrassed. She was as proud as ever, despite having her ass handed to her.

Clint knew she specialized with blades, but he couldn't comprehend why anyone would pick that field. It was up close and personal and messy. But weapons like guns and his bow provided a long distance kill and less risk to himself.

He supposed this would be a good question to ask. When he was writing his report he could say he asked uh, deep psychological questions. Did the fact Smith favoured knives over guns and that she could be deathly quiet show loud noises unsettled her? Was the reason she used blades because she felt cut up inside?

Yeah, some bullshit like that.

"Why knives?" he asked gruffly, turning his back on her so she could disappear again. A knife fighter had to be extremely skilled if they were to be in anyway successful. They were too close to make any mistakes.

"I like hurting people," came her reply.

Great. It was just his luck that he was babysitting a psycho.

He whirled around to face her and was met with a grin like a Cheshire cat's. Smith raised her eyebrows. "Put that in your report."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving it out," he answered. She clearly knew his angle and was baiting him again. Then as quick as anything she withdrew into herself again.

Smith chuckled darkly. "You might be an expert with that bow of your's, but meet me with knife and you're mine."

Had it been any other female agent (well, maybe not Natasha. He had a scar from the last time he tried that) he would've fired back a smooth reply. You couldn't really blame him (well, you could, but Clint was adamant that it was a natural reflex. He had another scar for that one).

_All _of the female S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were good-looking. Smith definitely wasn't an exception, but he had a feeling she'd react by punching him or by keeping a blank face. The fact he was training her and it would be inappropriate came as an afterthought.

Beauty really did help with being a spy. Most balding, fat mob bosses strangely didn't find anything fishy about the fact that a beautiful woman was trying to seduce them.

Instead, Clint left it with, "I'll have to see about that."

As the days past, Clint became even more concerned that someone would kill Smith. And he wasn't talking about himself. The younger recruits didn't take too kindly to her presence.

He knew some of the older agents were wary of her, but that was because the years of experience they had with S.H.I.E.L.D. told them to trust nobody.

About two weeks after her initial acceptance into S.H.I.E.L.D. everyone was in the mess hall collecting the slop that the part-time-cooks part-time-poison-brewers called nutritional. He saw Smith get her meal then she turned on her heel and disappeared.

Clint had no idea where she went to eat her food, but, he didn't think it was a big deal. It didn't hurt anyone so he couldn't see why there should be a problem.

But that didn't mean he couldn't see there was one.

A lot of other agents and recruits saw her disappearing act (pun intended. He was an assassin, he was allowed to cheer himself up now and again) as her toeing the line. Which meant they were intimidated, if you translated it from idiot to English.

Clint, for one, didn't give a damn where she ate as long as she had enough energy to spar. He even thought it might make her work harder to be accepted into S.H.I.E.L.D.. Boy was he wrong.

He had been walking to Coulson's office after meal time when he heard threats being shot between a few people. That in itself was common at S.H.I.E.L.D.. In all fairness, when world security was at stake, manners weren't at the top of your Things To Have list.

Then he heard her voice and knew if she beat up anyone a)she would be thrown out of S.H.I.E.L.D. and would have a suspicious fatal accident and b)Fury would be on his ass like a vulture. So he had to step in.

Clint looked around a corner and saw it. Six new recruits standing in front of Smith, arms crossed and muscles bulging (he was uncertain if all six were male or if one was a girl. Maybe he was wrong about all female agents being gorgeous).

Smith, instead of trying to talk her way out of it, stood with her feet planted apart and her head held high. She was also fingering the blade she had sheathed and strapped on to her utility belt. While he hadn't gotten around to taking her on himself, he had seen her fight.

The recruits didn't stand a chance.

He stepped in. "Is this a party? Why wasn't I invited?"

Two of the recruits almost ran for it at the sight of him. Clint was quite disappointed. _All_ of them should've been sprinting at top speed.

For once Smith kept her back towards him. He was offended. Did people think he was going soft or did they not know of Hawkeye's reputation?

"What are you doing Barton?" Smith hissed. Now all the recruits visibly paled. Clint relaxed. They didn't recognise him, that was all. He was thinking he'd have to get one of them to run around with targets on their backs so he could practice _and_ scare the shit out of them.

But they knew not to piss of Agent Barton.

"Move," was all he said and they saluted and briskly walked away, eyeing him over their shoulders. They didn't even spare a glance for Smith.

She wasn't too happy.

"What was that?!" she demanded. "I could've taken all of them!" She looked longingly at their backs and he was certain she was going to go after them.

Clint reacted and wrapped an arm around her thin waist and half lifted and half dragged her back. He let go before she managed to get an arm around his neck and pull a manoeuvre that would've left him groaning on the floor.

"I know you could've," he said, "But I couldn't have explained to Fury why you turned six newbies into sushi in the corridor."

Smith didn't care. She came right up to his face and almost growled, "I fight my own battles."

"Not when you're a part of a team," he replied, holding her glare. Smith gave him one last searing look and brushed past him. His new student was stubborn if anything.

_That went well_; he couldn't help but think to himself. Clint beat down the pride rising up inside of him. Smith had let her mask drop. It was only for a minute but he cracked her, and he knew there was something more going on with Smith.

.../...

Leah strode down a metallic grey corridor, her footfalls silent. She was still fiercely annoyed at Barton.

And intrigued by him.

Leah could handle herself fine. She knew reputation was the key in being a successful assassin.

A good reputation got you jobs, got you money and got you respect. A bad reputation – well, you know what they say about reputations; they take a lifetime to build, seconds to destroy.

Barton scaring off those half-wit recruit agents was not likely to leave her coming out on top.

She wouldn't have seriously injured them. They were kids. She planned to just rough them up a bit. They picked a fight with her after all.

He stepped in to cover himself and as a result she would be seen as under Barton's protection. And Leah didn't need protecting. She knew how to protect her Matthew, the person most important to her, but she mostly killed protectors.

Leah was disappointed in herself to. She let her anger control her. She swore she would stop doing that after she burned those sons of bitches in Canada. It endangered herself and Matthew.

But there were times when she would say something snarky and Barton would get a glint in his eye, half open his mouth as if to say something, then close it. She knew it was a power play, to keep her feeling like he was better than her and knew something she didn't.

He had attitude, but he kept it reigned in for the most part. She acted exactly the same. Leah supposed he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her.

Actually, that thought was very inaccurate. He could probably toss her to the other side of a room.

Amelia was a spy; she was trained to notice these little things after all. But she wanted to know what those little things meant. Barton wasn't completely cold to her, but she wanted to find out what made him the way he was.

She never remembered thinking that about a person, but some of the things he said and did; it made her think that he could've led a normal life if he hadn't gone down a certain path. She knew she was required to go on three missions with him and wanted to know if she could rely on him.

Plus she was sick and tired of _top secret_ this and_ classified information _that. Sure, she had snooped the second she was accepted, but nothing too major. Snooping was in her nature. She'd go crazy if she didn't know what was going on.

But something this big … If she was caught, the consequences … There would be guards, security cameras she wouldn't have time to disable and computers she wouldn't have time to hack … She'd never been in that part of the base; she'd be going in blind …

How could she resist?

Leah was going into the filing rooms. Yes, they sound accountant-y and boring, but they held all the files and reports on every single mission and every single operative of S.H.I.E.L.D. She had seen the walls and nothing else.

Despite most it being on computers, S.H.I.E.L.D. liked to keep a hard copy.

It was meant to be a bit like a giant library, except every file was a true story and there were no children's books. It was world of top secret information, full of the kind of secrets that she could sell for millions. That was out of the question though, seeing as how she needed to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D.

In the end, Leah was a bit disappointed. She simply turned invisible and waited for someone to punch in their passcode and open the door. Certainly less thrilling then it had seemed.

But she couldn't really be blamed. She had been cooped up in this base for a few weeks now and she hadn't slept in three days. It was mentioned that she snooped.

There was a popular theory going around (it's not like many people talked to her, but you hear these things) that Director Fury's accommodations were much larger and well-furnished than the other agents quarters. There was also a rumour he had a hot tub and minibar in there too.

There might've been a hidden button that made the hot tub rise up from the floor or something, but Leah could definitely confirm the minibar. Not that it was that 'mini'.

She had been certain when she joined up that she would be out on missions in no time. She had years of experience.

The hanging around and constantly training whilst having limited access to particular areas of the base was wearing on her.

As soon as she hit the filing rooms, Amelia looked straight for the B's, hoping to find Barton. She expected his name to be close to the top.

**BACALL, NOEL**

**BACHELOR, KIERA**

**BACAN, LOUIS**

**BACON, JOSEF**

Amelia flicked through the files quickly. Yes she could turn invisible, but to anyone else it looked like a ghost had opened the cabinet. The sooner she returned thing to the way they were meant to be, the less chance there was that she'd be caught on camera.

She skipped a huge chunk of personnel files.

**BAIDEN, WILLIAM**

**BAILEY, SARAH**

**BAINES, EMILY**

**BAINES, HARRISON**

Leah briefly wondered if those two were related, then remembered one) she didn't care and two) S.H.I.E.L.D. was an enormous, worldwide espionage association and had thousands in their employ, which was quite obvious from the amount of files there were and three) she didn't care.

Some were extremely thin, probably only having worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. on a once off. Others were inches thick.

After skipping dozens more files, skimming over a section where the names **BAKER **and** BAKEWELL **appeared numerous times and moving on to the next cabinet, Leah finally came across **BARTON**.

It was so thick it resembled a novel. And Leah loved a good book. Swiftly shutting the cabinet and leaning against it, she began to read;

**NAME:** CLINTON FRANCIS BARTON

**DOB (DATE OF BIRTH): **12/2/1977

**POB (PLACE OF BIRTH): **WAVERLY, IOWA

**CLEARANCE LEVEL:** 7

Barton's personal history … Leah was curious but she only really wanted to learn about whether he was reliable during missions. It made no sense to stay longer than she needed too. When she was more familiar with the security she could come back and check it out.

She pulled out a transcript from a mission in Rio de Janeiro.

**AGENT , CODE; HAWKEYE :** YOU IN THE VILLA WIDOW?

Leah realised immediately the notorious Black Widow had joined Barton on this mission.

She had a grudging respect for the woman after they met in Athens. Leah had come away almost unscathed, but the ancient Greek vase she had been paid to steal was destroyed. She called that a draw.

**AGENT , CODE; BLACK WIDOW :** NO, I'M DOING SHOTS WITH CLINT EASTWOOD BACK AT THE HOTEL.

**AGENT , CODE; HAWKEYE :** WOULDN'T BE THE FIRST TIME.

**AGENT , CODE; BLACK WIDOW :** YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE YOU KNOW I COULD DRINK YOU UNDER THE TABLE.

**AGENT , CODE; HAWKEYE** **:** CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

**SENIOR AGENT , HANDLER** : IF YOU TWO DECIDE TO CARRY ON WITH THE MISSION AT ANY POINT, FEEL FREE TO DO SO.

**AGENT , CODE; BLACK WIDOW :** RODGER THAT. I'M IN THE NORTH-EAST WING. I STOPPED IN A RESTROOM TO UPDATE YOU. TARGET IS LEADING ME TO WHAT I PRESUME IS HIS BEDROOM.

**AGENT , CODE; HAWKEYE :** LORD HELP HIM. I'VE GOT THE FRONT COVERED AND I CAN SEE YOUR HEAT SIGNATURE. TARGET IS A MASTER IN MIXED MARTIAL ARTS AND KICKBOXING. WHEN HE FIGHTS BACK, TRY NOT TO KILL HIM. WE NEED TO KNOW HOW HE IS TRANSFERRING THE DRUG MONEY TO A.I.M.

**AGENT , CODE; BLACK WIDOW : **I'LL DO MY BEST. HAVE A TRANSPORT WITH A HOLDING CELL WAITING FOR ME. THIS SHOULDN'T TAKE TOO LONG.

**SENIOR AGENT , HANDLER :** RODGER.

There was a break in the transcript. Leah could only assume Black Widow went in.

**SENIOR AGENT , HANDLER : **HE'S SENDING HIS SECURITY OUT FRONT. HAWKEYE, SEE THAT THEY DON'T MAKE IT TO THE GATE.

**AGENT , CODE; HAWKEYE : **GOT IT.

There was another break in transcript. If a mission that important was entrusted to only two people and Barton was one of them, it said a great deal about his ability.

The Black Widow, well, everyone knew about her ability.

**AGENT , CODE; BLACK WIDOW **: BRINGING HIM OUT NOW. HE'S 'CUFFED AND SUFFICIENTLY TERRIFIED OF ME.

**SENIOR AGENT , HANDLER :** JOB WELL DONE WIDOW. WHEELS UP IN FIVE. ALL CLEAR HAWKEYE?

**AGENT , CODE; HAWKEYE : **CRYSTAL. RETREIVING MY ARROWS THEN READY TO GO.

They must have met up and shut off their comms at that point, because the transcript ended there.

Leah had never worked with a partner before and she wasn't looking forward to it. Barton hadn't had much to do in that mission, but that Nick Fury trusted him with it said more.

She also doubted she could ever develop the level of trust he shared with the Black Widow. Leah guessed they must go way back. Maybe he was the one that made her become an agent all those years ago.

She shivered, feeling the cold in her bones. She was always cold. Leah slipped the transcript of the Rio mission under her black fleece with the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on the breast.

Before she left she had a quick peek at her own file, which took less time to find then Barton's, but that was because the amount of Smiths was overwhelming and she decided to look in G for Ghost. Luckily she was near the top.

As she suspected, there was very little in there, considering her long and lively career. Most of it was what she told S.H.I.E.L.D. herself, thankfully.

Leah gently put in the code the agent from earlier had used and peeked out. All clear. It wasn't like anyone would see her anyway.

She strolled aimlessly down corridors, completely invisible. She didn't have clearance after all. Leah might sleep once every third night. It was the only way she could bring herself to close her eyes.

On the third day she could still throw a knife straight, but her body would be exhausted and need rest. That way she was too tired for nightmares. But sometimes they came anyway, along with the cold that would make her teeth chatter and make her hairs stand.

But she wasn't the only one that rarely slept. The base was more lively at night than you would expect. Though Leah credited a lot of that to caffeine.

She suspected S.H.I.E.L.D. had emergency protocols for several serious situations like terrorist attacks, alien invasions and assassinations. She sincerely hoped though that they had one for a depleted coffee supply, which would be no less serious than any of the above.

She knew who would be up and where they would be. After a moment's thought she went to the archery range to watch Barton shoot. She watched while invisible as usual, not wanting to get ranted at about protocol by Mister-Arrow-Up-His-Ass.

Leah was aware she was probably too interested in him. She always worked alone in the past. Once or twice she needed help, but she believed the saying "Two people can keep a secret if one is dead".

She wondered if it meant she wanted to be friends. There was only one person in her life she was close to, but there were more suitable words to describe their relationship. Words she was too afraid to even think.

If she wanted a friend, Barton wouldn't be a good choice. He was keeping an eye on her for Fury and that meant he was completely loyal to him. If she did anything questionable …

At any rate, she needed to trust him to an extent if he was meant to have her back. Leah settled into her usual spot and watched Barton shoot.

_**Thank you for reading. I don't own anything.**_


	4. Chapter 4

Clint Barton was an idiot.

Leah had actually slept last night. Her exhaustion had kept away the dreams. She was fully rested and on the top of her game. That had to be the day Barton decided he wanted to go up against her with a knife.

Idiot.

"I haven't got all day here," Barton said impatiently, tapping a blunt blade on his thigh.

"You sure you want to do this?" Leah asked, picking up a dulled knife from a rack in the training room. It was unfamiliar, but she quickly weighed it and balanced it in her palm.

Barton's eyes narrowed at the insinuation. Leah wondered what had pissed him off.

Whenever Clint was in a mood this bad, he would spar with Natasha, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. She was a part of his problem.

He learned Natasha and Coulson would be returning from Russia soon. He had hoped Coulson would talk to Fury and get him to soften his assignment. After all, Ghost was well trained and, even though she clearly had some secrets, didn't seem like she would sell them out.

Then Clint found out from a newbie in mission control that they already had a something lined up for Natasha and Coulson when they got back. And that they had strict orders that involved Clint staying at the base for a while.

He was on lockdown. That is, except for the three missions he was required to go on with Ghost. After that he was free to go.

Fury was planning something big. Clint knew he was somehow involved in it, but he was being told nothing. Coulson knew it, whatever _it _was. He doubted Natasha was completely in on it, but she knew something.

Why else were they all being spilt up? He would get it out of Nat eventually. That is, whenever he was able to see her next.

Clint tried to wash away his resentment, like he was trained to. He had worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a long time. It wasn't the first time they pulled this kind of crap with him. Yet he hated S.H.I.E.L.D.'s unofficial motto, 'Do what you're told, but we aren't telling you jack squat'.

He followed his orders; he deserved to be told what was going on.

So before he marched into Fury's office, yelled himself hoarse and had a gun pointed at his head, he knew he needed to be taken down a notch.

Clint needed to spar to channel his aggression, and he needed someone who could beat him. Smith stood no chance against him with a bow, but on her turf …

It was impulsive and stupid, fighting her when he knew she would beat him. It would give her leverage. But it wasn't as impulsive and stupid as breaking into mission control or threatening Fury would be.

So, for a few minutes, he swallowed his pride.

Within thirty seconds, Smith slid the flat of the knife up his arm. If it had been a sharp edge, she would have severed his superior ulna collateral artery. So he kneed her in the stomach.

Smith doubled over for a split second, gasping involuntarily, then swung for his neck and kicked his shin. He dodged the blade, but his leg wasn't fast enough.

Clint quickly wrapped his throbbing leg around the back of her's. She twisted halfway out of it, so when he finished the manoeuvre, Smith was kneeling instead of kissing the mat.

He felt the pain in his shin for a half second. It was like the thing had its own heartbeat.

Smith swung her heel around, the heavy sole of her boot making contact with his arm. She pounced, grabbing his injured arm and twisting it, trying to get him to let go of the knife. Clint refused. He knew she could beat him, that didn't mean he wasn't going to put up a fight.

Smith mimicked drawing the blade across his throat. He was dead, but he kept fighting.

After fifteen minutes they took a break. She had killed him five times and he had barely touched her.

Leah took a gulp of water. She was doing her best not to feel smug. Barton needed a challenge. He came to her, knowing his chances of winning. So he either didn't care if she knew a weakness of his or he didn't see her as threatening. Perfect.

Barton definitely wasn't comfortable with her. That idea was almost laughable. But now he didn't think she was going to stab him in the back. Hell, he even fought with her using her favourite weapon. Maybe her plan would work out after all.

Barton walked back on to the mat and looked at her expectantly.

_That_ surprised Leah, but she hid it well. He worked out whatever was bothering him earlier. Maybe this round was just about regaining some of his dignity and Leah wasn't about to go easy on him.

Barton managed to kill her once even though she had 'cut' several important arteries. Leah was almost proud of him.

He was getting better at anticipating her moves. The fighting wasn't serious but it sure as hell still hurt, though neither party was going all out.

Leah saw an opportunity. She grabbed hold of the wrist of the hand he was holding his knife in, being forced to drop her own in the process. Kicking off from the ground and using his arm to propel herself, Leah caught her ankles around his throat, slamming him to the ground and keeping his knife hand controlled.

That's when Leah heard a chuckle.

Startled, having been so engrossed in the fight, she snatched her abandoned blade off the ground before turning around. She sensed no immediate danger, but remained cautious none the less.

She was met by the Black Widow.

"You're getting rusty, Clint," the Widow said.

Barton got up from the mat casually and dusted himself off. "I needed someone else to kick around while you were gone."

Leah shot him an incredulous look.

"We all know that wasn't how it was going," the Widow stated plainly, her full lips quirking up at the side. Then she and Barton shared a look and the Widow's hard green eyes softened.

Leah watched the exchange with veiled interest. They had history. She wondered if they were sleeping together. If they were, Leah knew how dangerous it would be for her. If they were attached, they wouldn't give a second thought about letting her die if it meant they could save their lover.

Attachments cloud your judgement. Leah knew that. She had been there before.

She made a mental note to look that one up in the filing room, where her night visits were becoming almost as frequent as those to the archery range.

Leah studied Black Widow for a moment. Her hair as longer than it had been when they met in Athens, but was still a vibrant red. Leah greatly respected the woman's skills. They had come away from Athens with neither side winning, but Leah had to leave the country before the dealer who had paid her to steal the vase the Widow destroyed could find her. She hadn't been to Greece since, all because of some pottery.

"Natasha Romanoff. I take it you're Ghost?" Romanoff said, her expression and tone neutral.

Leah chose to act natural. The Black Widow was a good deal less tense than Barton and that was a good sign. It wasn't trust, but it was more accepting. The day was getting better and better for Leah.

"You can call me Leah Smith. Good to see you again."

Romanoff raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to decide whether the statement was sarcastic or not.

Leah continued, "I'm just glad we're on the same team this time 'round."

Romanoff smiled politely. "I prefer to think of the last time we met as a draw."

"That's what I've been telling myself since then," Leah said, smiling. Romanoff's smile seemed to become more genuine.

Leah was glad the Widow was someone she could get along with. Leah had Matthew and contacts in the criminal world that she got along with, and that was pretty much it.

Clint looked between the two women, creases forming on his forehead. He had expected the women to butt heads. They were both proud and experienced, and neither of them took any bullshit. He realised how alike they were with a start.

Natasha turned back to Clint. "Director Fury wants to speak with both of us." She glanced at Smith, "He said you were to go to Coulson in the pantry. Phil wants to meet you."

That first sentence was the one that piqued Leah's curiosity. Would she learn what had been bothering Barton? The man had kept his cool since she had met him, she wanted to know what would make him show his anger.

Instead, Leah smiled warmly. "The famous Coulson, huh? I'd better be going then." She would wish them fun at their super top secret meeting, but she had plans on crashing it.

Leah walked out of the training room and turned to the left. She turned invisible and peered back into the room. Romanoff and Barton were slowly coming towards the door.

"I can't believe it. If I had said that, she'd never have gone. She would've been stubborn and I wouldn't get to Fury for another half an hour," Barton moaned. That was surreal for Leah. What he said about her was true, but hearing him chat to a friend was strange. All she'd heard from him were orders and the odd snarky remark.

"I seem to recall you insisting on using the word 'determined' instead of 'stubborn' when someone is talking about _you_," Romanoff quipped as the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents strolled towards the main briefing room. Leah tailed them carefully.

"Just back from Russia and already acting like a smart ass," he uttered sarcastically.

"Good to see you too," Romanoff smirked. "Have you tried acting like an actual human being? With a person like the Ghost, I'd say the quickest way to get her trust would be by being open with her. She's trained to sense veiled emotions."

Leah didn't like to admit it when she was surprised, but that Romanoff would say that after only meeting her for a minute did surprise her. Heck, even Barton looked like he hadn't been expecting that.

"My job is to assess whether or not she is a threat. That's it."

They walked in silence for a while after Barton said that. Leah pondered the declaration.

She knew from that moment she couldn't tell Barton anything that would put her or Matthew at risk.

Barton spoke again, "So is this meeting to tell me about the big secret you're all hiding?"

Romanoff didn't even look at him. Leah crept closer to them. She was unseen and was working on keeping her footfalls unheard.

"I'm not hiding anything," Romanoff said evenly. "All I know is that Fury is thinking of bringing some new people in." Barton looked at her sceptically.

They turned a corner and approached the biggest briefing room. It was the most secure and it was where the most important missions were discussed. Leah slipped in behind Black Widow. Fury was shuffling some files, then looked at the door expectantly, waiting for someone to close it. Barton sighed and shut the door. Romanoff and Barton sat down.

"There is a sensitive matter I need to discuss with you both," Fury started speaking, taking turns at looking them each in the eye. "I have reason to believe there is a mole in this base." Barton and Romanoff's faces remained stoic, but Leah was sure that if anyone could see her, they would've seen her eyebrows jump up her forehead.

It seemed like S.H.I.E.L.D. had a bit of a security problem.

_**This turned out longer than I thought it would so I split it. Sorry this took so long, I lost my laptop charger. I don't own anything. Thank you for reading.**_


	5. Chapter 5

"How do you know they are in _this_ base?" Barton asked.

"We knew the leak was happening in the States, so we sent out a few versions of a mission. Yesterday we told our handlers here that there was a deadly weapon we needed to pick up from Oregon at 2300 hours. We gave co-ordinates of an empty warehouse that was hit by H.Y.D.R.A. agents later that day. The mole is definitely here," Fury told him.

"What do you need us to do?" Romanoff questioned. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her lap, looking detached and professional.

Fury turned his one eye on her. Leah was sure he was the only person in the world that could look intimidating in an ankle length leather coat and an eye patch.

"Be vigilant. Keep your weapons on you and the safety off."

"So you know for a fact there's a rat around and you still come to this base? Great logic there," Barton rolled his eyes. Leah didn't agree. She saw where Fury was coming from, even though it was dangerous.

"I'm hoping to draw him out, and what better way to do so than to present him with a completely unsuspecting Director to kill? I have my two best operatives watching my ass after all," Fury looked at them pointedly. "So I'm going to bring all the handlers I told, the two of you and the Ghost to the Helicarrier."

"About the Ghost-" Fury continued, looking at Barton, who interrupted. Leah was wondering why the Director would want her to come too.

"You don't think it's her, do you? With her invisibility, she could easily 'overhear' something."

Leah tensed immediately. They had every reason to suspect her. She doubted they were entirely unaware of her midnight adventures. It could ruin everything.

"No I don't, but what about you?" Fury shot back at him.

Barton shrugged noncommittally. "I don't think so either and I sure as hell hope I'm right, because I'm about seventy per cent sure she's in this room."

Romanoff sat up straight and uncrossed her legs. Her shoulders tensed and she prepared to defend herself. Leah was disappointed. She'd quite liked Natasha and didn't want to be her enemy.

Fury looked slightly surprised but just nodded. "I should've known. You might as well come out now Smith."

Leah knew she was caught red handed. She turned visible again, leaning casually against the far wall to show she wasn't going to try to kill anyone.

"Well, I was right when I said how alike you and Barton are," Fury muttered. Leah was stunned that he hadn't called in some agents that would drag her to some place where she could never see the light of day. If they let her live that long.

Barton grumbled in protest to Fury's comment, but Romanoff tilted her head slightly and said, "I see it too." Barton shot her the evil eyes.

"Was it the clothes again?" Leah asked Barton calmly. He nodded.

"I'm not the mole by the way," Leah said coolly, not giving away how nervous she was. Romanoff and Barton looked to Fury.

"You won't be much help in finding this rat, seeing as how you don't talk to many agents and you seem to piss off the ones you do-"

"I didn't do anything to that officer guy he just-"

"Donovan was just trying to intimidate you and tell you how S.H.I.E.L.D. could wipe your memories in a second and you decided to get cheeky and ask if they made the same offer to his wife after she saw him on their wedding night," Barton said disapprovingly, but he couldn't hide his micro reactions and the corners of his mouth curled up for a second.

"Donovan? Connelly Donovan?" Romanoff asked, her eyes narrowing.

Barton grunted in affirmative. Leah thought they should know what an asshole this guy was and explained herself, "He was standing over me and from the way he kept putting his hands on my shoulders before that, I'd say it's not like the guy cared about his marriage anyway."

"I know that bastard," Romanoff declared, with much more emotion than Leah thought she even possessed. "Please tell me we have that on one of the security cameras."

"Uh huh," Clint hummed. He acted displeased, but Donovan knew no boundaries. He had made a move on every woman in the workplace in a way that made Clint's skin crawl. He had wanted to beat the crap out of him after he tried to go all touchy feely with Natasha (who gave Donovan a black eye for his trouble), but now he thought the man deserved an hour with Smith to kick him down a notch.

Fury's face remained impassive and he cleared his throat. Donovan had some big connection with the Pentagon, so the Director had to put up with the man once he attended at least two sexual harassment seminars a year. And minimum four on workplace etiquette.

Fury adopted his _I know all this shit, you can shut up now_ look which was mixed with his _why did I do this to myself_ look as he glared at the three assassins.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Leah was unpleasantly surprised that Fury's evil eye had ten times the intensity of Barton's, "You won't be much help, but keep an eye out."

"Sir yes sir," she said, remaining passive. Fury nodded to the other two assassins who took their leave. Leah went to follow them out before Fury called out to her.

"Don't think for a second this means we trust you. Clear?"

Leah understood perfectly. After that close call, there was no way she was going to mess things up.

"Pack your things," Barton had demanded, pounding on her door at 0500 hours. Twenty minutes later, Leah was ready to leave her back full of her menial possessions and some of the things she had pocketed while she had been here.

She left the rest of the stolen objects under her bed, but burned the mission transcript from Rio and kept a tarnished teaspoon, an engraved pen and a crumpled book mark. They meant nothing, but Leah didn't have anything personal so she made up for it by taking other people's belongings.

It was stupid, but she couldn't help herself. At any rate, if she was forced to flee from a job gone awry, anybody who came to investigate wouldn't learn anything about her from these little stolen objects.

"We're going to the Helicarrier today?"

Barton rolled his eyes. "What gave it away, Sherlock?"

Leah's belongings were packed into a medium sized haversack that she had on her shoulders. It didn't weigh her down too much as she followed Barton. He led her to the airstrip, which was one of the places she had yet to explore.

He stopped in front of some sort of carrier, but Leah had never seen the likes of it before. This aircraft was definitely meant to hold several people, but it was militarised and the weapons technology seemed very advanced.

It almost reminded her of a piece of weaponry she had stolen from Stark Industries a few years ago. Leah decided to prod. "Why does that look out of this world yet vaguely familiar?"

Barton glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't know the dynamics of it, but I'm pretty sure it's based on that jet engine design that had the capacity to power weapons without manual input. You know, the design you stole about-" Barton paused and brought his hand up to his chin in an exaggerated thinking pose, "- three years ago, was it?"

Leah quickly absorbed that information but kept her face clear of whatever she was thinking. "The funny thing is, I sold that to a pretty powerful crime lord in Mexico City."

Barton nodded. "Who happened to be selling the design on the black market. We couldn't get the information from Stark Industries but we needed it, so we did what we had to."

Leah couldn't help but feel a little cheated. Not only had retrieving that design been one of the hardest heists of her life, but she hadn't thought S.H.I.E.L.D. would sink that low. Sure, Leah knew they could play dirty, but that crime lord was a mass murder and dealed in experimental drugs and weapons.

She thought they would've taken the man in, but she had dealed with him since, proving he was still at large. "Tut tut. Buying from criminals."

"Not one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest hits," Barton muttered. Leah thought he sounded bitter. Maybe he hadn't been a part of the organisation at the time, which could be why he had separated S.H.I.E.L.D. from himself.

But the more likely explanation was that he disagreed with the deal. He had a strong sense of right and wrong. This strengthened Leah's assumption that Barton couldn't wait to be rid of her. Hell, she said to him out straight the only reason she had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. was to save her own skin.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Leah asked, gesturing towards the aircraft.

"Them," Barton inclined his head to about seven S.H.I.E.L.D. agents walking over the airstrip. They were clearly the handlers from the base. They all sensed something was amiss and Leah could see how nervous they were, even from a distance.

"None of them seem too keen to go to headquarters, huh? Must be scared of their employers. I wonder why," Leah mused, her tone dark. Barton rolled his eyes. Leah was convinced if he kept doing that they would be stuck up there.

"You go in there, you fight 'til you can't anymore. Capiche?"

Leah nodded and made sure the two knives on her belt were strapped on securely. She had been given a gun specially made for the exercise.

The Judge was a reality simulator, which was expensive enough to maintain without bullets bouncing off the walls and damaging the equipment.

Barton sat in his chair, pushing it back on two legs. In front of him there were screens showing the inside of the Judge.

"Good luck." His voice was gruff, but his well wishes caught Leah's attention. He avoided her gaze. It was strange. Was he actually warming up to her? She could've sworn he disliked her even more after they sparred. He probably regretted letting her see him weak. But Leah decided to find out either way.

Leah winked at him. "I got this." She didn't look back as she walked into the stimulator. She could find out how he took it later.

The onslaught started immediately. The assailants were holograms, but they were the best Leah had ever seen. She was almost worried after she grazed her knife across the first holograms neck, but he flickered and disappeared, making way for more holograms.

They were armed differently and they were all different sizes. Some used knives, guns or their fists. Leah didn't like the hand to hand combat holograms. They were stronger than a normal man but she took them down just the same. While it was challenging, the holograms weren't too much of a problem.

That statement became less true as the hours went on. Sure, she could stay awake for a good few days, but the constant fighting and moving was wearing her down. The holograms operated by heat sensors, making her invisibility useless. Leah hated that.

It wasn't until what Leah guessed was the third hour until she learned to contain her movements. She didn't need to put as much effort into her cuts. With a real person she had to put a bit of strength behind her knife to make sure it went all the way through, but the holograms were just that – holograms. She knew that early on, but it was hard to change a fighting style she had been using since she was eight.

Leah guessed it was the ninth hour when she lost one of her knives. She didn't know how it happened. She hated to admit it, but it was a lot more pressure than she imagined. Fighting for hours on end? She lost her knife in a blur.

There was an incident when Leah knew there would've been left with a pretty deep cut on her bicep. Her suit left that spot vulnerable, which was its one flaw. Otherwise, her suit was perfect.

It was made of a flexible Kevlar that was tight to minimise noise and made it easier to slip through small spots. It was one piece, but covered her chest and had a collar to protect her neck. The suit was sleeveless.

Leah might wear sleeves underneath if she was in a particularly cold country, but the cold didn't usually bother her. She was always cold anyway. Sometimes she wondered if they did something to her in the facility in Canada to make her less vulnerable. She was used to the cold, so it had little effect on her.

On her forearms Leah had plated armbands that went from her wrist to her elbow. The bands were wired to the gloves she wore, meaning when she bent her wrist back and pushed a button on her palm a hidden blade would slide out. Releasing the button would draw it back inside. That weapon was very useful on quick, in-and-out assassinations.

But if that knife hadn't been part of the hologram, Leah would've been left with a scar on her arm. Unluckily for her, the holograms were very high tech and left her feeling the pain, even if she had not been cut.

In the thirteenth hour she lost the slim bade she kept hidden in her boot. She had thrown it at a hologram. Leah would hope it hadn't damaged the walls, but she was too tired to care.

Leah gave up on trying to count how far in she was. She had a headache that felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her skull. It had to be because of the dehydration. Leah struggled to even her breathing, but her lungs still ached. She could barely remember her own name when she dropped to her knees and keeled over.

_**I don't own anything. This update goes out to witchofthewest, sorry I kept you waiting. Thank you for reading.**_


	6. Chapter 6

Leah woke with a start in a clean white room with several beds. It was probably some sort of medical bay. Leah didn't like it. It reminded her of the first two decades or so of her life in Canada. Well, less than two decades. Leah thought she was about nineteen when she got out of there, but there was no way to be sure. They didn't keep any data in the facility.

She had made her peace with what those people did to her. It was probably because they all died painfully when she burned the facility to the ground. Leah felt like that part of her life was over. In her eyes, they deserved to die and so she killed them.

Maybe taking pleasure in how much they suffered wasn't right, but if she held on to all the things they did to her it would weaken her. Her enemies could use it against her. If anyone triggered a bad memory and Leah could lash out or act irrationally. One bad move and she would be dead. So Leah got on with it as best as she could.

That didn't mean she couldn't dislike the décor though. It was bad even by hospital standards.

Leah got up quickly and went into the adjoining room. Her suspicions were right – it was a bathroom. The cold shower woke her up completely. However, the only clothing she had (bar a hospital gown with an open back) was her suit. It seemed redundant to shower than put on dirty clothes, but there was no way in hell she was ever going to put on that gown again (it would be too hard to hold on to what dignity she had left).

With her dark, wet hair secured in a plait, Leah left the bathroom and opened the only other door in the medical bay. It was a considerably darker room, with armchairs and tables. A waiting room - Leah couldn't imagine it ever had many people in it. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would hate to show that they actually had emotions and were worried about their colleagues.

But there _was_ someone in the room. Barton was sprawled on a chair in the corner, his feet on a small table which held two empty plates.

"Y'know, I said fight until you can't take it, not fight 'til you drop. You could've pulled out when you had enough," Barton stated, rising from his chair and stretching slowly. He yawned and his mouth opened impossibly wide.

"Y'know, you could've made that a bit clearer," Leah grumbled, but she had to fight down embarrassment. It was silly of her to think she had to fight until she passed out, but she refused to be embarrassed in front of Clint Barton of all people. He rolled his eyes again.

So she tried to count all the ways she could kill him in that moment. That line of thought comforted her somewhat.

Leah gestured to the plates, "Was someone a little peckish?"

"Coulson was disappointed he didn't get to meet you, so he made some food. But then you were snoozing so …" Barton trailed off and made his way out of the waiting area.

Leah was alarmed. "How long was I out for?"

"Only about four hours," Barton called over his shoulder. Leah held in a sigh of relief and walked briskly to keep up with him.

Passing out in front of everyone was one thing – it showed she would fight for as long as she had to. She might even earn some respect for it. But if she didn't was glad she hadn't been sleeping long – it would make her look vulnerable. That couldn't happen.

She was unsure as to where they were going, so Leah walked alongside Barton in silence. Her stomach squirmed. She cursed Barton in her mind for not saving some food, then was struck by the level of comfort she had with him.

She didn't like him, but she didn't like many people. She didn't particularly dislike him either except for the fact he was overbearing, bossy and disregarded everyone else. She had worked with other people before, but only in special cases, with one exception. She knew for people with very specific skill sets, arrogance was common.

Being annoyed at him for not saving her any food was a bit too familiar for her tastes. But Leah suspected she was right when she thought he was warming up to her.

Not five minutes later, Leah saw Natasha speaking with a taller and broader agent. Leah was glad there were no problems between her and Natasha. The woman was friendly and seemed like she was willing to give Leah a chance. That was incredibly strange. Mistrust must be hardwired into an assassin, so why was the Black Widow treating her so well?

Natasha smiled at her and the man beside her stopped talking.

"Hang on a sec," Barton muttered, leaned close and started up a quiet discussion with the muscular agent. The agent's raspy voice was too low for Leah to hear. Natasha guided her a few steps away.

"Top secret information I'm guessing?" Leah sighed.

Natasha made a noise that was half laugh, half sigh. "Probably not. Doyle over there helps develop weapons, so I'd say Clint's just asking about new arrows. You know, boys and their toys." The part about the arrows intrigued her. Just how special were Barton's arrows?

Leah hummed in assent, still thinking when Natasha put her hand on her shoulder. Leah almost tried to flip Natasha, but fought against her instincts.

"I heard you lasted seventeen hours. Well done."

Leah's eyes widened a little in surprise. She knew Barton had made it to twenty, but the guy had more weight on her, which probably worked in his advantage. She quickly adjusted her facial expression so it was calm with her eyebrows raised.

"I almost forgot to ask how I did."

"Clint didn't tell you?" Natasha paused for a moment, considering something. "Don't mind him, he's just being stubborn. If I had to guess, I'd say he's actually impressed. I'm quite impressed too. You handled yourself pretty well."

Leah's immediate reaction was to raise her eyebrows higher.

"I might've dropped in for an hour or two," the woman also known as the Black Widow admitted. Leah's curiosity sky rocketed. Why was Natasha so interested in her? Why was she being so open?

It seemed like she was trying to give Leah an insight on her partner. Was she trying to befriend Leah to get information, seeing as how Barton strict approach wasn't very successful?

Barton and Agent Doyle came closer to the two women, their conversation done for now. Natasha beamed at them, a smile so stunning Agent Doyle grinned back instantaneously. Barton looked suspicious. Leah thought he should pull that stick out of his ass before he needed surgery to remove it.

"By the way, Coulson still wants to meet Leah – " Leah managed to keep her face emotionless even though she was surprised by Natasha using her first name, "- but he was busy, so he mentioned to send you two around when she woke up."

Barton nodded. "We'll swing by his office."

"He might already be with Fury," Natasha notified them. Barton nodded and Natasha and Doyle continued down the hall, restarting their earlier discussion.

"This way," Barton told her and took a sharp left. Leah wondered if he was okay. He hadn't been exactly stable before Natasha arrived and now he seemed deep in thought.

With Michael, she had learned sometimes the best way to figure out a problem was to talk it out. But Barton was not Michael. So Leah kept her mouth shut.

Barton was a little way ahead of her when he stopped abruptly.

"We were just on our way to see you," Barton stated to a man in a black suit with a crisp white shirt. Leah assumed it was Agent Coulson.

"I know." His voice was calm and clear. Leah could picture this man giving out orders to field agents, never panicking no matter how dire their situation, his voice never wavering as he spoke over the comm. Or maybe Agent Coulson's reputation had affected her perception of him.

"Agent Phil Coulson," he said, holding out his hand. Leah shook it. "You must be the Ghost. It's good to meet you Miss Smith. I've heard a lot about you."

"So Barton's told you all about my wit and charm?" Leah asked innocently, the corner of her lips twitching as she looked at Barton's reaction. His eyes narrowed and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Something like that," was Coulson's composed answer. Leah smiled pleasantly.

"I sent you some proper food as a welcome gift. How did it taste?" Coulson asked, starting to walk.

"A rookie tripped and it went all over the floor," Barton declared. It amused Leah that Barton was trying so hard to keep the truth about a bit of food from him. It was like a child lying so his parent wouldn't catch him out.

"Shame." Coulson was a fast walker and the three of them continued in silence. Leah was a little nervous. She spent the majority of her time on the Helicarrier in the Judge. She hadn't a clue where they were going and it made her anxious. Leah preferred to be in control.

She tried to puzzle out Coulson as they marched down corridors and hallways. He was an ordinary looking man, which was the best disguise. He could melt right into a crowd and you would never remember his face. He could be invisible, but unlike Leah, he didn't need any inhuman abilities to do it.

But then Leah's breathing stopped for a moment and her mind went blank as they stepped into a wide open space that was clearly the main control area. At least a hundred agents were working on computers, the type of computer that could keep the Helicarrier flying, investigate a suspicious politician and bust a 14 year old for downloading illegal music simultaneously. About another fifty agents were milling around the place.

But the amazing thing was the view. A gigantic portion of the wall opposite her was glass and she could barely see the world below as wisps of cloud floated by. Leah stood on the observation are in surprise.

No wonder some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents thought so highly of themselves. To them, everyone else was just a dot below them or a number on a computer screen.

Fury cleared his throat, catching Leah's attention. He was standing on some sort of panels, holographic touch computers on either side of him. Leah wondered how he managed that, what with the eye patch.

"Heard you did well Agent Smith," Fury said, tilting his head so his good eye was aimed directly at her. Even though he called her 'Agent' he didn't trust her.

"This is Agent Maria Hill," Fury waved his hand in the direction of an attractive woman with bangs. Maria Hill nodded curtly at Leah, and then turned to Fury.

"Our people vetted three of the handlers. They're on their way in. They've been working with us for over twenty years and judging from their financial records have not received any large sums of money. There have been no recent incidents involving them, and the HR department has deemed them safe._ I_ think you would do better to err on the side of caution-"

"That's enough, thank you Agent Hill," Fury dismissed her and Hill walked away like she was used to him not listening. Leah could sense the undercurrent of resentment. She thought Hill was right on this occasion, but clearly there was more going on than she knew. But Leah joined S.H.I.E.L.D. for safety after all, not to get involved in politics.

The three handlers came in the same way Leah, Barton and Coulson did. Behind them was Natasha Romanoff.

Leah recognized one of the handlers. She had seen him around the other base. She was pretty sure his name was Mooney. Mooney seemed to be the only one of three that was at ease. He strolled along casually while the other two looked like they were going to see their mother-in-law to break the news of the upcoming divorce.

The handlers weren't the only people that looked strained. Everyone else was tense. Leah wasn't in the mood to play politics, and she was suffering from a dull ache in her neck and shoulders.

"So you made it, Ghost," Mooney remarked, then looked right past her to Fury and got straight down to business. "What's this all about then, Nick?"

"Long old story cut short, we have a mole," Fury said, moving off the panel and approaching Mooney.

"What?!" the handlers exclaimed. Some of the people working at the computers nearby glanced around, but didn't pay much attention.

Leah thought Fury was too invested in dramatics. He said he wanted to keep the mole on the down low, so of course he tells Mooney and the rest about the rat in a room filled with over a hundred agents.

"Why are you telling us?" Mooney asked.

"If you've seen any of the other handlers acting suspiciously, now's the time to let me know. It's not squealing when that mole's presence could cost our lives."

Leah thought Fury was right not to play all his cards at once and tell them they were already off the hook. At least he's would get some information out of them first.

Leah suspected the reason Fury had brought her, Barton, Natasha and Coulson there was not only to help him detect lies. If the traitor tried anything, Fury would have some back-up ready and fully aware of the situation.

"No, no, nothing like that," the second handler answered. He had an Eastern European accent.

"What have they given away so far?" the third handler inquired, his voice nasal. Leah could see the man's sweaty palms even from a distance. She brushed off the bad feeling she had, telling herself that man had every right to be nervous. One of his friends might have betrayed him.

"We suspect the mole has given away information on over ten different operations. We didn't see it before because he always made sure there was another plausible way as to how H.Y.D.R.A. had gotten that intel. But he's getting sloppy, we're bound to catch him soon," Fury stated with determination clear in his voice.

Leah thought he was taking this very personally. She supposed he would do better if he followed Leah's belief system. The less people you trust the less you have to worry about one of them shooting you in the back.

"I can't think of why any of the handlers would do it," Mooney muttered. The third handler ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. By the time Leah saw his hand go into his pocket it was too late to stop him.

The third handler whipped a small object from his pocket. Leah didn't need to look closer to see it was a hand grenade. The traitor yanked out the pin and held the grenade high. Everyone on the observation platform froze. Leah's body prepared to attack, but she locked her legs into place. He'd drop the grenade before she got within five feet of him.

"Hank! What are you doing?" Mooney asked, bewildered. Everyone else understood well enough though. He was the mole.

Leah had no idea who the man was, besides that his first name was Hank. It didn't matter. She knew he was the enemy.

"Listen up!" Hank roared. All the other agents paused and stared, their bodies tensed up and prepared to act. "Anyone moves or shoots me and I drop this, letting go of the safety lever, then we all go kaboom. And so will the engine controls, and we can all say goodbye to the Helicarrier," He stepped on to Fury's platform.

Leah's heart was thumping frantically in her chest. She didn't work so hard at getting into S.H.I.E.L.D. just so some idiot could blow her up because the damn HR department couldn't get their shit together.

There was no way anyone could take him down without him releasing the safety lever. They would have to meet any demands Hank made, and then he'd probably blow them all sky high anyway. So Leah did the only thing she could.

By the time Barton glanced out of the corner of his eye to the spot where Smith had been, there was no one there.

_**I don't own anything. Updates should be more regular now after the holidays. I edited the chapters a bit, ut I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for reading.**_


	7. Chapter 7

Clint was an idiot. Smith had been working with H.Y.D.R.A . all along. He knew there was something up with her from the start; why else would she join S.H.I.E.L.D. out of the blue? He'd thought she backed out of a deal with the wrong person and needed safety.

He had trusted her not to betray them.

There was still a chance she hadn't. Maybe she had just run away. Her own skin was more important to her and Clint couldn't blame her for her sense of self-preservation.

Actually, he could and he thought she was an ungrateful bitch. But he had to focus on the situation at hand.

"Hank, think about what you're doing here. Think about the consequences," Fury said calmly. Clint thought they were screwed no matter what anyone said to Hank Paisley.

"Oh, I know what I'm doing."

"Why risk your life for them?"

"I don't think you'd understand Nick. To understand, you'd probably need emotions."

Clint saw Natasha's hands twitch. She too was trying to figure out a way to take him down without blowing everyone to hell. Clint hadn't come up with any solutions so far.

"I have a few requests." Despite the show Paisley was putting on, the man was still nervous. But he was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Clint knew he was serious about the grenade. So talking him down probably wouldn't work.

"Of course," Fury replied.

Paisley opened his mouth but suddenly his arm twisted. Clint was just as confused as Paisley for half a second, but then Smith made herself visible. She was behind Paisley, one hand wrapped around his to keep a hold of the safety lever and bringing down her elbow to break Paisley's arm. Clint heard the bone snap.

Paisley tried to fight back but Smith kicked his leg out from under him and had her foot on his throat, still clutching his hand with the grenade in it.

Almost every agent had their guns out and pointed at Paisley in a matter of sseconds.

"Tell the HR department to stop slacking off. That was close," Smith said, accepting the pin from Hill and putting it back into the grenade.

**…/…**

Leah was put in the field not long after that little incident. Her first probationary mission with Barton hadn't gone as smoothly as it could have though.

"This is Hawkeye, Ghost and I are at Observation Point 3, over," Barton muttered into his comm link, his eyes glued to the warehouse. Leah kept her gaze trained on the figures moving inside, but the small, grimy windows made it difficult to see how many threats there were inside. Thankfully, they had heat sensors, which picked up twenty four people.

But their mission was to observe until they could get an undercover agent inside.

Leah and Barton had followed the A.I.M. agent to the base. It was touch and go for a while, and Barton would hate to admit how it would've been impossible without Leah's invisibility. S.H.I.E.L.D. estimated they could get an agent inside in four days, but Leah and Barton were leaving after two. Strike Team Cobra would remain the whole time.

It wasn't the most exciting mission. In fact, Leah had more fun learning the blueprints of the air vents in the old S.H.I.E.L.D. base. They were giving her low level, unimportant operations. Regardless of what she had done for them, they still didn't trust her.

Two months she had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. and already she killed a man to protect them when she could've just sat back and done nothing. She didn't expect them to trust her wholly, but to give her observation with Barton and a strike team of five agents?

She was certain the incident on the Helicarrier had shook Barton up a bit, despite how well he hid it. There was still that secret problem he wouldn't tell her anything about, even though Leah knew she had a small part in it.

He was more of a tight ass than usual. He even made her put back the packet of biscuits she had 'borrowed' from Coulson's 'secret' cabinet in the pantry.

Leah spared a glance at Barton, who was listening to Coulson's reply. Leah could hear him too in her own comm.

"A truck is entering the warehouse, so keep an eye out. It's unknown what kind of weapons they have in there, seeing as how they ship them out from this location. Just make sure you are not seen. Over."

"Got'cha."

Coulson sighed over the comm and Barton rolled his eyes. Leah was unsure about the proper etiquette when discussing terrorists with untested weaponry, but whatever it was it seemed Barton and Coulson disagreed.

"Fine," Barton huffed. "Got'cha. Over." Leah thought he was doing it on purpose to mess with Coulson. It was the third time in the last three hours.

"Much better. Over." The line then went silent. Smith and Clint didn't talk.

For a second, he thought she had betrayed S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint thought he had made the wrong call concerning whether they could trust Smith and everyone was going to pay for his poor judgement. He thought everyone was going to die because he made the wrong decision.

Then she came out of nowhere and took down that H.Y.D.R.A. informant. The experience reminded him that trusting her was risky. But he now knew she had some degree of loyalty. Or maybe she was just saving her own skin.

She had been friendly with him before the Judge. Considering how their conversations were mainly just sniping at each other, Clint was a little surprised. Maybe she was trying to soften him up, get on his good side. One of her acts, he supposed.

So now he actually had more questions than answers. Why did she join S.H.I.E.L.D., if not as an undercover agent or spy? Why did she save them all when she could've just saved herself? What did she really want from S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Shouts from inside the warehouse brought him out of his thoughts. Smith sat up straighter beside him. Then they heard a terrified scream which was quickly muffled.

"Cobra 1, any idea what's going on in there? Over," Smith spoke into the comm. Clint frowned. He didn't want Smith taking on a big role in this operation, just in case, but he still had to give her something to do, otherwise he would have nothing to assess.

"Ghost and I are going in for a closer look. Approach with caution, but stay a fair enough distance away. Over."

Smith gave him the death glare for not giving Cobra 1 the chance to reply to her. It was a fairly boring mission; even Clint would admit she could handle it by herself. If it were anyone else, Clint would say someone with that skillset was wasted on a job like this.

Together they crept closer to the warehouse, their footfalls completely silent. The place was derelict, the windows were smashed or so filthy that they looked like black holes on the side of the building. But even when Clint stuck his head through a window frame, he couldn't see anything worth a damn because of the sheer amount of boxes inside. The shouts sounded distant, like they were coming from deep inside the warehouse.

"Fall back," he whispered to Smith, who was eyeing the window with a look that worried Clint.

"I could fit through there," she breathed, gesturing to the window. Clint shook his head violently. It was too dangerous. She could endanger the entire mission.

"Fall back," he whispered more forcefully. Smith shrugged and Clint began to sneak back to the observation point. He glanced over his shoulder, then did a double take. Smith was gone.

"Ghost, where the hell are you?!" he demanded down the comm.

"Just having a look around," was the quiet reply.

Clint quickly made sure the line between him and Coulson was off, then muttered, "I swear if you don't get back here in ten seconds –"

"You'll do what, Hawkeye? Listen to them. An argument between a couple of criminals in a warehouse containing various newly developed weapons will not turn out well. Now's the chance to get information while they take each other out. And you heard the screaming. They could be torturing someone."

"You could get all of us killed."

"I'm invisible. If you're that worried, tell the Cobras to fall back. Now, your verdict?"

Clint knew she would snoop no matter what, but he made a split second decision he knew he would regret. "If you're not out here in two minutes, I'm coming in."

"Got'cha. Over."

Clint resisted the urge to go in and shoot her there and then. She was being smart with him when he should have just dragged her ass out of there.

"There's five in a secure room. They're the ones arguing. I see fifteen patrolling the warehouse. AK-47s. They each have a few magazines strapped to their belts."

Clint inched closer to the warehouse as he listened to the information Smith was relaying. He was ready to jump in at a second's notice.

"Opened one of the crates near the back. Huh. It looks like one of those new Dauntless sub-machine guns Stark Industries are starting to produce. But surely they can't have made this many yet. A.I.M. must've gotten their hands on one and have been trying to replicate it. I'll look around for blueprints."

"Don't. Get. Caught," Clint spat out. This was such a stupid idea. He was going by Smith's rules and she had all the control. He trusted her not to betray them, but if she acted impulsively then they were all screwed.

"Oh no. Bad."

"What is it?" Clint hissed. If she messed this up, he would have to take the fall. Couldn't Smith just listen to orders for once?

"Passing the secure room. They are arguing about a bomb."

"Shit. Get those prints if you can, but just get out of there."

"Hang on. We don't know it's here except … Hang on, let me get a better look at that …" Smith mumbled, trailing off. He wanted to scream. Curiosity killed the cat, but a bomb or a gun would kill it just as well.

"Very bad. Very very bad."

Smith was getting a punch to the gut when if she got out of there, because she needed to develop her damn sentences. Smith seemed to sense Clint's irritation through the comm.

"They've got a bomb alright. And a man tied to a chair. He's in pretty bad shape. He needs help."

Clint opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late. He heard "Shit!" and gunshots.

"Turns out the other three guys were snipers watching the prisoner," Smith huffed, no longer concerned with being quiet. She sounded like she was running. Clint couldn't believe she blew everything. He tossed himself through the window and had an arrow notched in no less than two seconds.

"Ghost, I'll take down the snipers, but you've gotta handle the rest," Clint told her. She grunted in response. He spotted her sprinting towards him about fifteen seconds later.

And wow, she was moving pretty fast, even though the man slung over her shoulder had about forty pounds on her. The guy was completely limp and covered in blood, so he presumed he'd taken a bullet.

Clint caught the glint of a sniper rifle and shot an arrow his direction. From the thud, he knew he hit his mark.

Ghost made it to the window by the time the other two got him in their line of fire. She shimmied the man (who was dead to the world by the way) though the window, then clambered after him.

Clint dodged behind some crates. He knew there was at least one bomb in this building, so he hoped they wouldn't shoot and risk damaging the merchandise.

"Cobra 1, this is Hawkeye. We need you to bust in here."

"What?" Cobra 1, whose real name was Josh, answered.

"What?" Coulson exclaimed. All ideas of using proper code words and saying 'over' at the end of every single damn sentence were gone.

"Come in, safety off, shoot down some guys. Aim just to wound them." Clint could hear footsteps approaching. There were fifteen other goons with AKs strolling around. He needed back-up.

"We're on our way," Cobra 1 replied quickly. Orders had to be followed.

"Why are you even inside the building?" Coulson questioned. The footsteps were getting louder.

"Not the time," Clint grunted back, then took a run and a jump to end up on top of a crate. Arrow drawn, he took down another sniper before they realised where he was. The last guy had the gun aimed right between Clint's eyes, finger on the trigger, when the tip of a knife sprouted out of his stomach.

Smith had actually come back after dropping Sleepy to the two medical officers who were at the observation point.

Five more guys who looked like Shrek (if Shrek had tattoos all over his head and a sub-machine gun) came charging at them.

Clint was already shooting at them while Smith held two back with her knives. She did an unfamiliar manoeuvre the same time Clint went to shoot one of the boys she'd been holding off. The result was Clint's arrow grazing Smith's bicep, creating a long cut that was soon covered in blood.

They were really out of sync.

Clint heard the doors of the main entrance slam open and a rain of gunfire. It didn't last very long. Neither did the assholes in the secure room. They surrendered once they realised all their men were otherwise occupied (what with holding oxygen masks to their faces and trying not to bleed out).

The man Smith carried out wasn't looking too good. Turned out he hadn't been shot. They'd done much worse things to him.

Clint grasped Smith's arm and half dragged her away from Strike Team Cobra, all of which were healthy.

"Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that was? I don't mean for you. If you want to get killed, fine, go ahead. But I'd rather like to keep breathing."

"That man would've died," Smith said angrily. "They broke all his fingers, both of his legs, then paralysed him. Did you hear me? They broke his legs first, then made sure he was paralysed."

It was cruel to try make that man feel as much pain as he could, but sometimes it has to happen. "That was against orders. That wasn't our mission. Now there's no way we're getting information out of any of them, but if you hadn't of burst in there we could've followed them." Clint felt like a monster, devaluing another man's life. But that was the job.

"Sorry, I forgot how much S.H.I.E.L.D. love sitting back and waiting for something to happen," Smith spat at him. Clint had only heard her talk about her childhood in passing, and usually only to make a sarcastic comment.

Clint wondered if she found Joseph Cane's file, and decided to look it up later.

"Listen. It was hard for me to fix everything this time. Next time, I won't clean up your mess," and with that, he stalked off.

**_I don't own anything. My excuse for a slow update is exams, sorry. Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!_**


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